


By the Hands of Other Men

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Leia Organa/Amilyn Holdo, Eventual Sex, M/M, Non-Chronological, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: It was like he walked into a crappy February-release movie. They met in a crowded coffee shop. Hearts raced, cheeks blushed, numbers exchanged. It would end like an October noir.Fatal.





	1. Dispatch at Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> “Criminals do not die by the hands of the law. They die by the hands of other men.”   
> \--Shaw, _Man and Superman ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire story is dedicated to [Noxo](http://noxogoth.tumblr.com) because she has been cheerleading me through multiple fics and frankly, through life at the moment.
> 
> Some notes on how the structure of this thing is going to be if you click to hurtle toward the bottom of the page.

Ben arrived at the scene before any of the other detectives on duty. He was responding from home, taking some time to visit with his mother. He didn’t need to wade through the bullpen or drive in circles around the block to obey traffic rules, he hopped right onto the highway and at the odd hour they’d been called there was no one else on the road to hold him up. The local uniforms had already blocked the street and set up tape. Before Ben hit the pavement he knew this one would be high-profile. The perimeter was wide in anticipation of news crews and ambulance chasers. The strobe of blue and red lights from the medic and squad cars parked along the block set an odd cast over the whole thing in the watery pre-dawn light. It was like walking through a dream while you were just on the edge of waking.

Ballcap clamped between his teeth, Ben tied his hair into some semblance of a ponytail while he approached. He fed the messy twist through the back end of the cap and jammed it down behind his ears. He nodded to the officer stationed at the perimeter and fished his badge from the inside of his jacket. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the officers who would be stuck outside--they’d had a winter heat wave but a new cold front would be moving in. Already the wind was stinging his cheeks and ears. He flashed the badge and ducked under the tape when they lifted it for him.

“Guy who called it in is sitting up on the steps. We’re waiting for  _ cee-es-you  _ to get here. Medics called it pretty fast so there’s not a lot of contamination. Haven’t been up there but from what I heard it wasn’t too hard to tell the guy was gone.”

Ben nodded and stashed his badge back inside his jacket, zipping up against the chill. “Good to know. You got a name on the caller?”

The officer screwed up their face in a confused expression. “Arr--Armond? Armond Luck.” The officer frowned. “I’m sorry, Solo, I’ve been on duty all night. I’m waiting for someone to relieve me. I’m just here for the perimeter, I haven’t talked to--”

Ben put a hand up, “It’s alright. I’m gonna head up and see if I can get a glance at the scene before they start processing it.”

Ben took long strides up the front walk. He’d gotten the address and assumed it was a business, there weren’t any residential buildings along this stretch of road. He hadn’t gotten the name and the exterior of the building gave no hint as to what went on inside. It was nestled between a luxury car dealership and a high-end bridal shop. Ben smirked to himself--if this was a lawyer's office it was like the midlife-crisis trifecta. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. Joking could come later, when they were all too saturated by what had happened and needed a breath. For now, he needed to be clear headed and serious and ready to absorb as much information from the scene and witness as he could. He slowed as he neared the front steps. There was still no visible signage, Ben had no idea what he was walking into. There was an officer standing near the door, keeping an eye on who Ben assumed was the witness sitting down on the steps with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. The swoop of the emergency lights made the witness look like their head was on  _ fire _ and Ben had to suppress an inappropriate laugh. He came up short when the person lifted their head, alerted by the scrape of Ben’s shoes against the smooth slate paving stones.

“Hux?” The witness sat up straight. It took a moment for their eyes to focus on Ben as he stood up and straightened the front of his coat self-consciously “Hux!” He cleared the steps in one long bound and held the startled man at arm’s length, looking him over. Panic began to rise in Ben’s chest. “Hux are you alright? What happened?”

“Ben?  _ Ben! _ ” Hux pulled away, an annoyed sneer on his lips. Ruffled, color rising in his cheeks, he took a shuddering breath. “I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here? This is a crime scene, you--”

The officer who had been in the doorway stepped inside, leaving them alone on the steps.

“Ben this is my office.”

“Your office.” He could feel his face crumple in confusion. “What are you doing here at this hour?” Ben looked at Hux--really looked--as the emergency lights continued to strobe over them. He tugged Hux into the warm yellow lighting over the doorway. “What happened to your  _ face _ , Hux? You need a med--”

“I’ve already  _ been seen _ , Ben, that’s why I’m here. I came to clear out my desk and I--I-- _ found him _ like that…”

Ben couldn’t focus on anything--Hux’s fat lip and bruised nose--the incessant flash of the lights--anything Hux was saying. “I-I--has anyone talked to you yet?”

“I’ve spoken to the emergency operator, and the medics who arrived first, and the officers who came after that.”

“Alright, um--I’ve never had a scene with someone I know before. I’m not sure if I can be here. Let me call someone and--”

“Solo! You got here fast.”

“Poe, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Chief googled who the vic was, wanted to make sure there was a presence. Asked me to come down.” Poe turned to Hux and stuck out his hand. “Captain Dameron. You called it in, sir?”

“Yes, I did. The man in there is my--my employer.”

“Can I ask what you were doing here at this hour mister--”

“Hux. Armitage Hux.”

“Mr. Hux.” Poe squinted suspiciously at Hux’s ruined face.

“I came in to clear out my office. The important things at least. I wanted to avoid a scene considering there was  _ already  _ one earlier today.” He gestured vaguely at his face and did his best to appear unaffected. “Or yesterday, I suppose. When I went to leave my letter of resignation on Snoke’s desk, I--well, I found Snoke. I called nine-one-one immediately.”

Poe shrugged and tried to cover his ears from the chilly wind with his collar. “Alright, let’s um, let’s get you out of the cold then. Ben, how about you give Mr. Hux a ride to the precinct and take his statement.” He turned an amicable look on Hux. “Detective Solo will take care of you.”

“Can I do that?”

Poe gave him an incredulous look. “Why not?”

“I know him.”

“You know the vic?”

“No, Hux.”

“What? How?” All of their attention turned momentarily toward the bright white van that had pulled up to the curb, several people spilling out of it and retrieving gear from the back.

“Detective Solo and I are dating.”

“What? You were here too? How come dispatch didn’t--”

“No, no, I just got here. I had no idea.”

Poe frowned. “Alright, we’ll get this sorted out. Ben, take him over and get him set up in a room.” He turned to Hux, evaluating. “Are you feeling alright, Mr. Hux? Do you need medical attention?”

A group of people in identical khakis and blue windbreakers with  _ Police Crime Scene Unit _ emblazoned on their backs shuffled up the steps through the middle of their conversation as politely as they could.

“I’m fine. I just--I’d like to get out of here.”

“Of course. Detective Solo can stay with you if you’d like, but until we know what’s going on how about we cross all our  _ ayes _ and dot all our  _ tees _ ?” His lips quirked up into a smile with his attempt at lightening the mood. “We’ll have someone else take your statement.”

“Fine.”

Poe frowned and nodded. “Ben?”

“Ah, yeah. Of course, of course.” Ben turned to Hux, “Let’s go then. My car’s down the block.”

Hux seemed to deflate by fractions when Ben placed a hand at the small of his back while they made their way down the front walk.

“Hux,” Ben asked quietly when they were away from the noise of the scene. The sun was beginning to shine in earnest and the brisk wind was picking up. “What the fuck is going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to write this in a similar structure to _Hopeless Cathedrals _in that, while all of the action is forward moving, I'm going to jump between "now" and "then". Hopefully the chapter titles will give some clue as to what kind of chapter it will be. I'm really terrible at chapter summaries, I'm afraid.__
> 
> __I've really been enjoying writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it._ _
> 
> __Please, please consider leaving a comment. I am truly, seriously grateful for every last one and I really love interacting with you guys_ _
> 
> __**[@avaahren on tumblr](http://avaahren.tumblr.com/post/170258907959/by-the-hands-of-other-men-aryagreenleaf) ** _ _


	2. Like a Movie

Ben woke early, far too early for a day off, with the heavy feeling in his stomach that something would happen before the sun went down. He’d been languishing at home, forced to use his vacation days before the end of the year, unable to do much of anything without a casefile under his nose. He’d spent time wailing on his heavy bag… and meditating…  _ and _ trying to catch up on all the things he’d been meaning to read and watch… and each hour had never crawled by more slowly.

But that morning was different. He felt it in his bones. He just needed to get his ass moving.

He crawled out of bed, despairing the loss of the warm cocoon of his comforter and quilt, and sat down on the floor. He shivered against the hardwood and gritted his teeth, pulling himself up into a sit-up. He needed to do more that just beat the life out of a pile of sand that couldn’t escape, he was getting rusty if the stitch in his side was any indication. A sheen of sweat on his skin and his mind clear, he stepped into the shower and readied himself for the day, anticipation buzzing under the surface.

Ben dressed, really dressed, for the first time since he’d come home at the beginning of the week with an unarguable command from  _ Captain Dameron _ and a concerned squeeze of his shoulder from  _ Poe _ . He stood uselessly in his kitchen, staring down at a fridge full of odds and ends and nothing to really make a meal out of. Poe would skin him if he showed up at the precinct, but that didn’t mean heading into the city-proper was off-limits. As streak of soft black tore across the dining room. Ben huffed and shook his head, “Good morning to you, too.”

He slid behind the wheel of his  _ Silencer,  _ and sighed. He rarely drove it, his big splurge after he’d gained access to his trust fund. He didn’t need to remind anyone else at work where he came from. It was difficult enough to be taken seriously when he was as connected as he was. He didn’t need to flaunt it. Especially not when he was already using his mother’s address to maintain one inside the city.

It was nice though, slipping behind the wheel and forgetting about everything for half hour it took to get on the east-bound and over the river. The car responded to the lightest touches, letting him weave through traffic like a hot knife through butter. He made his way uptown, always fascinated by the way the scenery changed from one neighborhood to the next, flowing from older buildings to newer ones to a strange mix of the two.

Sitting at a red light, he keyed his usual order into an application on his phone. His thumb hovered over the  _ Complete Order _ button for a moment and he smirked to himself, adding an extra item just before the light turned green.

He sighed when he pushed through the door of the coffee shop, the baristas utterly inundated with the morning crowd. He worked his way to the end of the counter and wasn’t surprised to see his order wasn’t ready. At least he didn’t have to stand in line and wait with the suits, noses in the air and their attention on whatever was happening on their phones instead of the cashier trying to take their orders.

Ben squeezed through the gaggle of people waiting for drinks and into the cramped seating area, washed with bright morning light from the big windows. He folded himself in behind the only open table into the narrow banquet seat. Knees around his ears, he tuned the cacophony of phone calls and blenders and shouted orders out, staring through the window at the street beyond.

Everything was bright and silvery white through the clouds. It felt like winter, like impending snow, even though the season hadn’t technically begun yet. The air was crisp and clean and it made his chest hurt to stand outside at a scene for too long, stinging his cheeks and ears and making him blink like a fool.

Someone sitting at the table opposite bumped his shin as they passed, their name called. “Excuse me,” they muttered, long white fingers splayed on the edge of Ben’s table to keep it from wobbling. Ben responded with a sound of affirmation, unbothered. A moment later they were slipping by again, the hem of their long coat sweeping against the table as they moved. They settled back into their seat and Ben noticed in his periphery that they seemed to be as squashed in as he was. He turned from the window and stretched, eyes on the floor. His seat mate’s ankles were tucked in as comfortably as they could seem to manage in the tight space, a tantalizing bit of red sock exposed between their shoe and pant leg.

“Excuse me,” they said again, more clearly.

“Hmm? I’m sorry.” Ben shrunk into himself, hands in his lap. “You didn’t get me, it’s fine.”

They-- _ he _ smiled, showing bright white teeth behind plump pink lips. Warmth curled in Ben’s gut, dazzled even before he noticed their eyelashes in the wintery sunlight. “No, I meant to get your attention that time.”

Ben laughed, nervous. “Oh!  _ Heh _ , you’ve got it, then.”

“I had to ask, have we met before?”

Ben picked at a pill on the sleeve of his sweater sticking out from beneath his coat. “I don’t think so.” Ben cursed himself silently for the blush he knew was rising in his cheeks. “I think I’d remember someone like you.”

His brow raised in amusement and his lips pressed into a haughty smirk. “Well, you’re certainly memorable yourself.” Ben had to look away. The tips of his ears were  _ on fire _ . When had he ever been so easy? “I swear I’ve seen you before. Are you a regular here?”

“No, no. I’ve been here. Not often, though.”

“You live nearby then.”

“I’m visiting someone.”

He squinted, unsettlingly colored eyes steely under gold-floss lashes. “You’re very coy.” Ben snorted and craned his neck to see if anything had been placed in the mobile ordering area yet, antsy then in a way he couldn’t give a precise name. “I  _ know  _ I’ve seen you before.” He pursed his lips for a moment and took a thoughtful sip of coffee as if buying time to think. “Are you an actor or something? Letting me look a fool when I step outside and see an advert on the public telephone.”

Ben covered his mouth and barked out a laugh. “No, I’m not an actor.” Emboldened, he gave his seatmate a crooked smile. “I’m a detective. Have you committed a crime lately?” 

Ben raised a brow and leaned forward conspiratorially and almost muttered,  _ Lookin’ for someone to get you off? _ heart pounding in his chest. He had the most subtle dusting of freckles across his face. Instead, Ben pressed his lips together and waited.

His face dropped, something like realization falling over their features. “I’ve seen you on the news.”

Ben nodded. “Probably,” he said bashfully. “We just closed a case. ‘Lotta public interest.” The striking stranger straightened in his seat and nodded, all seriousness. Ben held out his hand. “Ben, by the way.”

“Hux.”

“That’s an interesting name.”

“Mm.” Hux leaned forward and dropped his voice, hands curled around his cup. There was an  _ AH! _ markered onto the side. “Detective Ben, I must ask…” he reached forward, fingers encroaching on Ben’s personal sphere. Ben stiffened in his seat, watching. Hux flicked his fingers toward the side of Ben’s face, never touching him. “Is that hairstyle entirely regulation?”

Ben let out a woosh of breath and a nervous titter. He tucked his hair behind his ears, the bulk of it held away from his face with a couple of braids tied up in the back. “No, not exactly. Captain doesn’t mind, though.”

Hux leaned back, his shoulders against the window pane. He opened his mouth to speak again when Ben heard, “Mobile! Solo!” He excused himself and went to collect his things, squeezing through the crowd that never seemed to thin. Cup holder balanced in one hand he smiled and waved over his shoulder at Hux. His phone vibrated in his pocket, distracting him. He patted his pocket absently and straightened his shoulders, looking for the easiest way out of the shop. When he turned Hux was squeezing his own way through.

“Ben,” he said softly, holding a white card up between his middle and forefinger. “Next time.” His expression was haughty and knowing. Ben took the card, closing his hand around the thick paper. Hux nodded and maneuvered through, holding his own coffee up over the shoulders of the crowd, slipping toward the door. When Ben finally made his own way outside, Hux was gone. He stood there dumbly for a long moment, looking up one end of the block and then the other, cup holder and card in hand. He shook his head, blushing furiously, and made his way back to his car.

 

***

 

“Mr. Solo! It’s been a while!” 

Ben nodded and smiled at the doorman. “Been working pretty hard.”

“Too hard for a visit?”

Ben laughed. “Maybe she should come visit me.” The doorman laughed and let him though. Ben waved over his shoulder. He nodded at the security officer in the lobby and stepped into the elevator, thumbing the button for the top floor. The doors opened into a narrow hall, a pot overflowing with completely out of season and utterly huge marigolds sitting in the sunny spot on a little table under the only window. Ben looked around, taking in the lush paper on the walls--new since his last visit. He rapped on the door before he used his key. “Mom?” he called as he let himself inside.

“Kitchen!” Leia laughed and said something in a lower tone than Ben could decipher. He grinned to himself, he’d been right to order the extra drink.

Ben shucked his coat into the closet and traipsed through the penthouse toward the kitchen, following the musical sound of laughs and the clinking of silverware against china. “Hey, mom.”

Leia graced him with a radiant smile, her eyes crinkling when he appeared. “You’re right on time, I was just going to have to put on another pot.”

Ben huffed, amused and crossed to the island she was seated at. He placed the cup holder down and planted a kiss against her temple in one smooth motion. “Hey, Lynn.” He grinned and plunked down onto a tall stool, feet still planted on the floor. “Chai latte.”

“Aw, you remembered.”

“Of course I did.” He slid Leia’s cup toward her and took his own. His mother hopped down from her own stool and bustled through the kitchen to the stove, slapping a pile of creamy scrambled eggs and a couple of sausages onto a plate. “You’re looking very bright today.”

Amilyn covered her eyes, a shy smile on her face for the briefest of moments. “It didn’t turn out quite like I’d hoped.” She brushed her fingers though shockingly fuschia hair and shrugged.

“I told her she shouldn’t have gone to another colorist.”

“My usual girl was on vacation and I absolutely needed a change. It couldn’t wait.”

Ben sipped his coffee, trying not to laugh outright. “I like it.”

Amilyn shrugged again. “It should lighten up a bit when I wash it. If not, then back to the salon I go.”

Ben drifted in the easy flow of conversation between Leia and Amilyn, not quite following the content but catching the vital threads here and there enough to nod or laugh where appropriate. Somewhere along the line his plate was cleaned and his cup was emptied and he hardly noticed it happening until Leia asked him if he was still hungry, snickering that he’d hardly chewed and he’d done enough growing--he didn’t need any more fuel, what was he trying to do, overtake Chewie?

Amilyn shook her head and let out a breathy little laugh. “Ben we’ve been clucking all morning, what the hell is going on with you lately?”

Ben leaned in with a secretive smile. Amilyn had always been fascinated by his work. Even as a child he couldn’t have helped but notice her dark humor. He’d grown to think of her as something of a colorful  _ Wednesday Addams _ . “Last week I interrogated this guy we think has been doin’ a number at Coronet Hospital--I think he might have been doing it upstate, too. Years ago, though, so it’ll be hard to connect by much more than circumstantial evidence.” Amilyn’s eyes grew wide and she leaned in by fractions, hands curled tight around her paper cup. Leia pressed her lips together and her eyes sparkled in amusement. “ _ Angel of Death _ type. Very methodical--all the alleged vic’s were terminal, no family or at least none immediately available. Haven’t figured out what the fuck,” Leia tutted under her breath, “ actual cause of death was for half of them yet.”

“But if they were terminal wouldn’t it have been whatever they were sick from?”

“Heart attacks, all of them. Looks fine on the surface, but there’s something more there.” Amilyn gasped. “I can’t really say anything else, though. Active case and all.”

“ _ Maker _ , Ben. I really don’t know how you do it sometimes.”

“Do what?”

“You’re entrenched in death, violence. But it never seems to get to you.”

Ben’s lips curled up at the corners in a tight smile. “You get used to it.”

“I know it’s utterly inappropriate, these are  _ lives _ , but I--”

“Can’t help but be so interested!” Leia fluttered her lashes and made her voice go high and sweet in imitation of Amilyn.

“You,” Amilyn leveled a heavy look at her, brow raised under the too-bright curl that swooped across her forehead, “are absolutely awful.”

“Do you remember that semester they made us go hiking in phys ed? You were obsessed with all the variables that might lead to a broken ankle. Totally taken with the idea of languishing in the health center with your foot done up in plaster.”

“Oh, stop, Lei.” She blushed fiercely and and sipped the last of her latte. “What else is going on with you, Ben. All work and no play?” Ben snorted and felt himself blushing from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. Amilyn made a shocked face. “What have you  _ done _ , Ben Solo?” 

Leia tilted her head and looked up at him through her lashes in a way that meant  _ business _ .

“It’s so stupid.”

“Spill it.”

“I think I got picked up at Starbucks.”

“What?”

Ben made an exasperated sound. “This  _ guy _ he just… just. I don’t think I’ve ever been flirted with,” or flirted, “so blatantly when there wasn’t some kind of alcohol involved. Or, you know, a suspect trying to get on my good side. It was like I was trapped in some kind of…  _ meet-cute _ . Like in one of those crappy movies they put out at Valentine’s. Chance meeting turns out to be true love!” He snorted at the absurdity of it.

“And did you flirt  _ back _ ?” Leia leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. Anyone else, Ben might have been concerned they were going to topple backward. Not his mother. It was like there was something in the universe that was always holding her up, long as he had memory. When Ben didn’t answer she flapped a hand dismissively. “Of course you did, you’re half Han. I hope you’re not as full of yourself as him, scruffy looking as he always was.”

“He gave me his card.”

“Oh? Let’s see then.” Leia settled properly on her tall stool again and held out her hand. Ben leaned over and slipped the card from his back pocket. It was thick paper, expensive feeling. There wasn’t any kind of company information on it, just a name and telephone number in very solid black text. It looked severe and no-nonsense--to the point, just like that man who gave it to him had been. Ben was almost sad to hand it over. He liked the weight of it in his fingers. Leia squinted at the card and adjusted her focus by holding it a little away from herself. “Armitage Hux.”

Amilyn took the card when it was passed to her, intrigued. “Nothing else? How mysterious.” She passed it back to Ben and he turned it over in his hands as if he might make something else appear. “You going to call him?”

“What?  _ No _ . Of course not.”

“Why not? It would be fun!” Amilyn laughed.

“I haven’t got the time for that.”

“Nonsense, you just closed a case. It’s not as if everyone in the tri-state area hasn’t watched that press conference. And you’re on vacation, I know that much.”

“ _ Geeze _ , mom, did you tell her my bedtime too?”

“Hux.  _ Hux _ . Why do I know that name?”

Ben shrugged. “He was wearing a suit. Lives around here, probably. Know him from the neighborhood?” Leia pursed her lips and shook her head. “I got nothin’.”

“You don’t think that name is familiar, Am?”

She frowned and shook her head. “If it should be then my brain just isn’t catching up as fast as yours.”

“Hm.”

“Well, I’d love to sit here and figure it out, but I’ve got to get my behind into the office. We’ve got an Assembly session coming up and there’s a certain bug in my bonnet.”

Leia raised a brow, “ _ Eff-Oh _ ?”

“Mmm. I’m a little tired of them skirting the law-- _ Dee-oh-dee _ contract or not.”

Ben was mildly bewildered and took the brief respite from attention to clear the kitchen island of their breakfast debris.

“Let me know what you come up with--it’ll be relevant, I’m sure.”

Amilyn stretched and slipped off of her stool, walking around the island to where Leia was seated. She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be back before I’ve got to go all the way up to the Chamber. I’ve got a few days, we’ll brainstorm.”

Leia smiled, everything about her softened for a moment, fingers trailing against Amilyn’s sleeve. “Can’t wait.”

When Amilyn was out the door Ben spoke again. “What was that all about?”

Leia sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “Weapons developer, shadowy government secrets. Just another day.” Ben narrowed his eyes, still curious. “I don’t want to talk about work. What are you doing today?”

“Entertaining you.”

“Are you now?”

“Mm.”

“Well, I’ve got a full day. I’m due at the office by ten--gaggle of new interns, or so I’m told. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to make a difference. But technically I’m scheduled off, so I’ve got a manicure and facial at noon.”

“Sounds good.”

“You’re going to come have a manicure and facial.”

“Why not? Been a while since we spent time together. I hardly ever get to see you without your shadow.”

“Kaydel is best I’ve ever had come through that office, don’t you talk that way.”

“I could use the day.”

Leia frowned and reached out, cupping his big face in her small hand. “It’s that case, isn’t it? Have you been in to see San Tekka?”

“Not yet, but I’ve got an appointment.”

“Good.” Leia moved out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Call around, see if we can get tickets to that show with the shoes.”

“ _ Cinderella  _ closed years ago, mom.”

“No, the red shoes.” Her voice echoed through the space, trailing as she moved up the stairs.

Ben snorted. “Alright!” he shouted after her.

 

***

 

The following evening saw Ben sprawled on the couch in Leia’s livingroom belly-laughing. Amilyn stood and readjusted herself in her chair, tucking her legs under her body. She took a long sip of the sparkling white wine her her hand and pointed an accusatory finger in Leia’s direction. “You told them where my stash of sequins and my sewing kit was. When I got back from class that afternoon my room looked like a tornado had been through it. All of my crafty things were gone--and my hair bleach!”

“Amilyn if there is one color that doesn’t work for you it’s blonde. It was a mercy they confiscated that bleach. You got that package in the mail from your mom the next week anyway and our bathroom sink was never the same after that.”

“What?” Ben gave her an amused and confused look.

“She sent me a dozen packets of  _ Kool Aid _ . If they weren’t going to let me do anything permanent then I was going to express myself by skirting the rules.”

“The pink looked good.”

Amilyn snorted, “It did, didn’t it?” She finished her drink and placed the glass down on the floor beside the chair. “Doesn’t excuse your absolute  _ treason _ .”

“I had to divert their attention. I was trying to stage a coup. I couldn’t have them finding that map of the school grounds.”

“Leia it was hanging in  _ plain sight. _ ” Amilyn’s face dropped. “Wait. That  _ name _ . Lei, do you still have your yearbook? The one from our senior year.”

“What for?” Leia sat up, alert and curious. “Ben, it’s on the shelf over there.” He got up and crossed the room,waiting for direction. “See that photo? Underneath.” Amilyn took the book when Ben offered it. “What on Earth are you looking for?”

“Do you remember during the winter term that year? We hosted that awful group of boys from-- _ gosh _ what was that place called? The military school. They were from England, weren’t they?.”

“Arkanis!” Leia sprang out of her place on the couch beside Ben and crowded Amilyn, sitting on the arm of the chair. “The  _ worst _ of them, that ginger kid. Brian. Brandon?”

Amilyn slapped her hand against a page, grinning ear to ear. “ _ Brendol Hux _ .”

“Ha!” Leia took the book from her and popped her glasses from the top of her head onto her nose. “He was a slimy bastard, I remember him.”

“Didn’t he turn out to be some kind of… I don’t know. Distant cousin or something?”

Leia took the yearbook and passed it to Ben. “No,” she frowned, obviously put off by the memory. “His family and mine had some kind of claim to the same lordship? He was hung up on it, I had no idea what he was talking about.”

Ben frowned at the black and white rows of photos, groups with club names under them rather than individual portraits. “Through Padme?”

“No, by my family. The Organas had some kind of landholding in some obscure spot in the UK.” She frowned, too, the amusement of the evening going out of her. “My parents were so busy that last year, I never really asked them about it. It didn’t seem important.” She shrugged, “And then…” She took a deep breath and pursed her lips, picked up her own glass of wine and drank. “So, does this Hux look like your Hux?”

Ben chewed his lip, reading the caption to figure out which of the boys in the photo--all in impeccably pressed uniforms and caps--was the one in question. He shrugged, it was hard to tell. “Guy at Starbucks did sound British.”

Ben closed the book and set it down on the coffee table. “I should probably head home. It’s way past my bedtime.” He stood and stretched. “I’ve got that appointment in the morning.” He smiled at Amilyn, who gave him a jaunty sort of salute. “It was good to see you, Lynn.”

“You too, Ben.” She groaned softly, unfolding herself from her seat. “I should head out too--I’ll ride down with you.” She took a step and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “ _ Whoah _ . Maybe not. You mind if I stay over?”

Leia shook her head, “Why would I mind?” She shooed Ben toward the door. “Go on, you. I’ll walk you out.” She folded her arms, hugging herself while Ben slipped into his coat and fished his keys from the pocket.

“You okay?”

“Of course I am.”

“It just, you know.”

Leia waved both hands, clearing the air. “Too much wine always makes me morbid.”

“Lei? I’m going upstairs.”

“Uh-huh,” she called. “Are you going to be okay?”

“What? Seeing San Tekka tomorrow? Of course. Been seeing him since I was thirteen, mom, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but you’re not dealing with thirteen-year-old kind of problems, are you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He hesitated at the door, hand hovering over the knob. “How come you and Amilyn don’t just.. You know.”

Leia scoffed affectionately. “Go home, Ben. We’re trying to get  _ you _ set up with Mister Rom-Com Meet n’ Greet. I’m doing just fine.” She turned her cheek, playfully haughty, and Ben leaned down to kiss it. “Drive safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do consider leaving a comment. It brightens my day like no one's business to get those notifications. <3
> 
> **[@avaahren on tumblr](http://avaahren.tumblr.com) **


	3. A Statement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given Finn a last name. It's not the most original thing ever but I felt like he needed one. I just couldn't call him "Detective Finn" the whole time, it felt too silly!

“ _ Hux _ ,” Ben whispered, urgent, when they slid into his car. Hux frowned, accustomed to the  _ Silencer _ , not this sensible compact. “What happened? What happened to  _ you _ ?”

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He made a pained expression and a frustrated sound. “Just, just drive, Ben. Please.” After several minutes of tense silence as Ben crawled through the city streets in the beginning of the early morning work rush, Hux spoke again. “That was the Poe from your photo album.”

“Yeah.”

“Are we violating some kind of protocol here?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Not with someone I know.”

“Should I call my lawyer?”

“We’re just going to have someone take your statement.”

“Yes, but should I have--”

“You’re not being interrogated. You haven’t been accused or charged. You’re just talking.”

“Alright.”

“Hux--”

“Please, Ben. This is… this is bewildering enough. I don’t really want to have to tell the story more than once.”

“ _ Hux,  _ you--”

“It is embarrassing and humiliating and I’ve just seen a man dead, Ben.  _ Please _ .” he hissed through gritted teeth, knuckles white in his lap from clenching his fists.

They finally reached the precinct, an impossibly old brick building plopped there in some past decade and left unchanging while the rest of the block grew around it into a twisted mess of glass and steel and bright neon storefronts. Ben held the door, nodded at the clerk, and led Hux through to the bank of elevators. They rode up in silence, the air practically static with it in the claustrophobic space of the narrow elevator.  Hux shrugged Ben’s hand at his elbow away when the doors opened onto the bullpen of his department.

“Just, um… just give me a minute, okay?” Ben gestured to a desk in the middle of it all, a neat little bit of chaos stacked with folders and notebooks, a nameplate on the side declaring it the occupation of  _ Det. B. Solo _ adhered to the side. He directed Hux to sit in the chair beside it and looked around. There weren’t many people in the office at all at this hour, just the few overnights and those who were getting an early start. Ben turned in place, both hands on the top of his head, until he spotted someone hunched over a desk at the far side of the room, file boxes on either side of him like slowly growing towers. “Storm!”

The detective perked up at the sound of his name, a mildly startled expression on his face. “Solo. What’s up?”

Ben approached the desk and spoke quietly. “Do you think you could take a statement?

“From who? Why?”

“Guy at my desk? I, ah, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“C’mon, Finn, I’ll owe you one.”

The other detective craned his neck, looking up and over Ben’s shoulder. “Man, I’m up to my damn ears in my own case.”

“But your case is ten years old, what’s ten more minutes?” Finn crossed his arms and frowned, stern.

“Solo! Where’s the witness?” Hux stood in one smooth motion, his expression strained. Under the flourescent lights of the bullpen he looked drawn and tired. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” A woman approached with her hand outstretched. “Detective Pava. You’re Mr. Hux?” He nodded and shook her hand once, sharply, and dropped it. “I’ve just been over to the scene. I understand you already walked the responding officers though what happened, I hope you don’t mind going over it again.”

“Not at all, Detective.”

She moved through the maze of desks and paused at her own, shucking her coat and picking up an armfull of things from a drawer before continuing.

“Alright. How about we go sit in the conference room? It’s a little more comfortable in there--better chairs at least!” Hux nodded and let her lead the way, waiting while she turned on lights and pulled out a cozy looking office chair from the table. “Please, make yourself comfortable. It gets kind of warm in here when the door is closed, you might want to take your coat off. Can I get you coffee? Water? Anything?” The blinds swung forward and rattled as they swung back and Ben came through the door with paper coffee cups filled impossibly high. “Well, would you look at that. Mind-reader, isn’t he?” 

Detective Pava sank down into her own seat and smiled her thanks. Hux slipped his coat off of his shoulders and folded it precisely in his arms. His brow was furrowed and his lips pursed in a worried expression. “Is it alright if he stays?”

“Ahm, yeah. Sure. If that will make you more comfortable. I understand Ben is your partner?”

“Of a sort, yes.” 

“Have you been together long?” 

Ben’s ears burned and he folded himself into a seat. He knew Jessika was just trying to build up a rapport, get Hux to trust her enough to open up. He’d done it enough times himself in instances like this and in interrogation. It didn’t feel good to be the object of questioning, even if it was indirectly.

“Nearly a year.”

Jessika snorted and sipped the coffee Ben had brought her. “Good job, Solo.” She turned to the materials she’s brought into the room with her and picked up a small device. “Do you mind at all if I record?” Hux shook his head and she pressed several small buttons. “Great. So if you could just start by giving me your full name and spelling it?” She placed the recorder on the table between them and flipped open a notebook, turning to a fresh page. Pen in hand she waited for Hux to do as he was asked. “Okay. So let’s start with the obvious. Walk me through your morning at the office and what the circumstances were that led you to find Mr. Snoke--get that down while the details are fresh.”

Hux pursed his lips again, lashes fluttering the way they did when he was frustrated and trying to keep a lid on it.

“Do you normally go into work at that hour?” Jessika prodded gently, trying to get him to start.

“Sometimes, if I’m working on a project that requires it. I wasn’t going in to work today, though. I wanted to gather my more personal belongings before anyone else arrived and leave my letter of resignation on Snoke’s desk. I’d planned to leave immediately after and then arrange with our secretary to schedule a time to clear out my office.”

Hux looked pointedly into his coffee and Jessika kept sneaking discrete glances at his face. Ben wondered if she was going to ask him directly about why he was banged up or allow him to get to it himself. Whether it was relevant at all Ben didn’t know. Hux had stubbornly refused to speak on the ride over.

“And why were you tendering resignation?”

“Because I’d had it.” He looked up and pointed at his face. “Workplace assault isn’t something I signed up for. I design weapons systems, I don’t engage in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Someone in the office assaulted you?”

“Yes. Snoke.”

Jessika looked skeptical. “A man in his--seventies? Eighties? Did  _ that _ .”

“ _ Mr. Snoke _ has--had. Had--a deceptive appearance. He was extraordinarily in shape for any age, let alone  _ his _ age.”

“And what prompted Mr. Snoke to.. To assault you.”

Hux glanced at Ben and his cheeks flushed red. “We had a disagreement about how to handle a particular project.” Jessika opened her mouth and Hux put a hand up. “I’m not permitted to discuss it. We work with the Department of Defense--with international organizations. Our contracts are confidential.”

“Okay, you had a disagreement.”

“He,” Hux rolled his eyes and looked downright embarrassed. He refused to meet Ben’s gaze, physically turned in his seat. “He slammed my face against his desk and walked out. I asked the secretary to call me a cab. I went to the emergency room. Had a few x-rays, nothing was broken so they stitched me up, gave me some pain relievers and sent me home.”

“And when was this?”

“Yesterday.”

“Alright, we can--”

Hux huffed out a harsh little laugh. “He called me a  _ rabid cur _ . For having standards.” He waved a hand and touched his face, seeming to forget himself for a moment and wincing. “He’s got cameras in his office. I believe they record audio as well. You can watch the whole show. I’m sure it's entertaining.”

Jessika jotted notes in indecipherable shorthand symbols. She cocked her head, interested. “Do they record all the time?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

She nodded and scribbled something. “Alright. So, you didn’t report this assault or anything like that?”

“Frankly I was too embarrassed. But it was the last straw.”

“Did you have an antagonistic kind of relationship with Mr. Snoke normally? Did he… did he often threaten physical violence?”

“Snoke was… Snoke was a difficult man. But no, this was unusual. His threats were much more of the professional variety. I didn’t like him at all but I wouldn’t be where I am without him, without  _ Eff-Oh _ .”

“That’s  _ First Order _ , correct?” Hux answered in the affirmative. “Okay, so you planned to grab your stuff, drop the letter off, and leave. What happened when you actually got there?”

“I let myself into the building and went straight to my office. I unlocked it, I sat for a few moments.”

“Second thoughts?”

“Yes.” He looked down at his lap as if ashamed. “Leaving  _ First Order  _ will likely ruin me professionally. I thought I might be making a brash decision.” He took a sip of his coffee and made a displeased face, setting it back down. “I went through with it. I got an empty copy box and put what belongings I could away. I’d already printed my letter so I went to leave it on Snoke’s desk.”

“And?”

“And when I got there the door was closed, but I could see that the lights were on.”

“Was that odd?”

“Yes. Snoke often stayed late but didn’t usually arrive early. I knocked, got no response. I meant to slip the letter under the door and realized it was unlocked. When I opened it, he was sitting there at his desk. I could see him. But. The chair was turned around, toward the bookcase. I called out to him and approached and got no answer. When I got closer I saw the blood. On the floor. I think I dropped my letter. I don’t remember having it in my hands after that. I called his name again and went to touch him.”

“Did you?”

“No. I stepped away and called emergency services. There was so much blood.” Hux looked as though he was going to be sick. “I just wanted to be finished with--I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t wish it on him.”

“Of course not,” she said gently. “What did you do after you called? Did you touch anything else?”

Hux shook his head. “I used my cell. Then I went downstairs and sat in the lobby. The security guard asked me what was wrong and I told him. I don’t know if he went upstairs at all. The medics arrived. Then the police. I spoke to two officers and then asked if I could sit outside. I felt like there was no air. Next thing I knew, Ben was there.”

 

***

 

Jessika asked a handful of questions.

What did Hux do, exactly? What was his professional relationship with Mr. Snoke?

Could he think of anyone who would want to cause Snoke harm?

Could he think of anything else off the top of his head that might help them?

Did he know if access to the security footage was readily available?

What was the best way to contact him if they needed to speak with him again?

Hux looked exhausted when they were through. Jessika thanked him for his time and expressed her condolences. “Thank you, Detective Pava,” he said. She left them alone in the conference room and Hux deflated in his seat.

“ _ Hux _ .” Ben stood and started to move around to his side of the table.

“Ben,  _ don’t _ .” He froze. “I can’t do this here. Now.”

“Okay. Let me make a call and we’ll get the hell out of here. We can go to your place.”

“No.”

“No? My place then. Astra will be thrilled to see you.”

“No, Ben. I don’t… I just want to go home and--and be alone.”

“Hux, do you really think that’s--” He stopped, sighed. “Let me drive you, at least.”

“I’d rather get a cab.” Ben opened his mouth to insist and stopped. “You can walk me out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. I need to deal with  _ Eff-Oh _ . I have to figure out what to tell our clients.”

Hux allowed Ben to hold his coat up while he slipped his arms into it. “Didn’t you just say you quit?”

“He didn’t actually accept my resignation, did he?” Hux laughed, a little manic. “I was essentially second in command. Whole thing falls on my shoulders now.” He covered his face and hissed, forgetting himself again. “We’ve got a contract due at the end of the week. I just keep waiting to wake the fuck up.”

“Hux, I really don’t think you should be alone--or working.”

“I need to focus on something. And I won’t have you underfoot.”

“Can I check in? Couple of hours?”

“If that will make you feel better.”

Ben sat down heavily at his desk after seeing Hux off. He stared blankly at his blotter, what little of it was visible. He felt like  _ he _ was in a fog, he couldn’t imagine how Hux felt. He hated that he was sitting there, useless.

“Ben,” Poe spoke softly, standing over him like he was approaching a deer in the woods. “Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what the fuck is up with that? Conspiracy theories accepted below.
> 
> **[@avaahren on tumblr](http://avaahren.tumblr.com) **


	4. First Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using NYC as a reference but this is also not at all set in NYC so have fun with that.
> 
> Ben has a cat because I want a cat and really what is a fic without some self-projection?

Ben sat at his desk, freshly back to work from his forced vacation and bored out of his damn mind. He knew it was horrible to think of his particular employment as a source of enjoyment and diversion, he couldn’t help but wish a case would come across his desk rather than being relegated to busywork.

He was bored enough that he’d been debating asking the cold case guy if he needed a second pair of eyes on anything. Ben turned in his seat just enough to watch Finn as he brought a new box to his desk, wondering what case he’d started working while Ben was away. The numbers on the side of the box were new, the tape holding the lid on was still unbroken.

“Detective Solo!” He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of his name.

The intern. Too bright, too hopeful. When he’d met her she chattered excitedly about being in the middle of her degree in Police Science and debating whether or not she wanted to defer her matriculation in order to go right into the academy. She desperately wanted to be a detective, though she didn’t know just what kind--whether she wanted to be there or work in another department.

“Rey,” he said, raking his fingers back through his hair. “What’s up?”

Her face split into a more radiant smile and she waved. Ben turned, following her gaze, unsurprised that Finn had caught her eye. “Captain Dameron caught me in the hall. He’s on his way to a meeting with Commissioner Skywalker but he asked me to remind you that  _ you’re _ supposed to have a meeting with him this afternoon.”

Ben nodded and picked his cell up off his desk to gesture with, “Reminder’s set.”

“I was on my way to make copies for Detective Pava. Can I do anything for you?”

“I’m good. Maybe you should go ask Storm.” Ben jerked his head back in Finn’s direction. “I think he’s just starting something. Might need help putting a board together.”

Rey nodded and excused herself, her oddly efficient hairstyle bouncing gently as she walked across the bullpen. Ben sighed and leaned back in his seat, tipping it as far as the spring would allow and hooking his toes under the front of the desk to balance. He knew what Poe wanted and he had no intention of giving in easily. 

He needed a partner, Poe insisted.

It would benefit him, to learn from someone else.

It would benefit whoever wound up working with him, to learn from Ben.

_ Pairing and sharing _ fostered cooperation and facilitated networks and…

And Ben had looked up every rule in the book about  _ partners _ and there were  _ none _ . He wasn’t required to have one. It was a cultural thing within the force. Even people who considered themselves  _ partners  _ didn’t even ride in the same vehicle or work the same cases half of the time.

Poe had been trying to get everyone in their department on board with having partners and actively working in pairs since he’d become Captain. Chief Akbar liked his ideas and encouraged the rest of command to adopt them more wholeheartedly, bring all of the officers in the city around to the concept. If Akbar were just the Bureau Chief there might be more leeway for resistance but as the Chief of Department he was hard to ignore.

It didn’t help that there were exactly zero people in any department that Ben was interested in working with.  _ Maybe _ Poe, if he hadn’t been such a damn golden boy and had climbed the ladder in fucking  _ record _ time they could be working cases--

Ben’s train of thought halted abruptly and he looked at the time. His shift was over in an hour and the minute hand seemed to speed around the face of the clock, racing toward 1540.

There wasn’t a chance in hell Poe would be back before Ben could scoot out the door and avoid the conversation altogether--at least for another day. Maybe he would catch a case tomorrow and just simply be too busy for Poe to bother.

He methodically went through his desk, reorganizing each drawer and replenishing forms he used often, even stalking over to the supply closet and grabbing stationary items he’d rarely use. He did his best to look occupied until it was time to clock out and at the stroke of three-forty he was clicking  _ submit _ and hurling himself away from his desk.

Ben took long strides across the bullpen, throwing his coat on as he went and patting himself down for his car keys.

Poe’s loud, warm laughter echoed through the hall, bouncing off the concrete walls in the stairwell. “Shit,” Ben muttered, bounding toward the elevator. “C’mon,  _ c’mon _ .” He jabbed at the down button a dozen times, willing the car to ascend faster. “Dammit!” Poe’s voice lost its echo as he hit the landing for their floor.

The elevator  _ dinged! _

“Ben!”

He darted inside and leaned on the button to close the door.

“Ben!”

He shrugged as Poe lunged toward the doors, “Sorry!” he called. “I’ll be in bright and early tomorrow!”

“Dammit, Solo!” The doors had already slipped closed.

 

***

 

It was a relief to pull into the driveway and slip the key from the ignition. Only three texts from Poe had come through in the time it took him to drive home, each one increasingly more annoyed than the last until finally, he’d threatened to pull rank.

Not in any official capacity, of course, that might result in disciplinary action.

Socially.

Familiarly.

_ Ben I swear I will call your mother. I’ll call Luke! I was just with him! I’m sure he’d love to hear from me again! _

Ben frowned at the phone, glaring at the blinking cursor in the reply box.

_ We can talk tomorrow. I already know what you’re going to ask. _

Poe’s response came almost immediately, like he was sitting with his phone in his hand waiting.  _ No you don’t. _

Ben rolled his eyes. He could practically hear Dameron pouting and, really, weren’t they all a little old for that? He slid out of the car and slipped into the house through the side door, greeted by a loud  _ meow _ .

“Hello, little goblin.” The fuzzy black sphynx leaned into his hand from her perch on the kitchen counter. She continued to vocalize loudly, demanding attention. “Hungry?” She followed him through the kitchen, hopping from the counter to the edge of the sink and waiting impatiently while Ben looked through the fridge for last night’s chicken. He broke off a piece and waited while the cat stole it from his palm. She pressed her head into his hand several small pieces later, apparently satisfied. “I’ll get someone to deputize you. You can be my damn partner. Would you like that, Astra?”

The cat purred and leapt down from the counter, twisting herself around and between Ben’s legs while he moved from the kitchen into the living room. He plunked down on the couch, sinking into the too-soft cushions.

Really, this wasn’t any better. He was as bored here as he was sitting at his desk.

Astra shoved at his arm with her head until he moved it and she curled into his side. “What’s this?” Ben plucked a ragged scrap of something from the floor, leaning forward and upsetting the cat. She abandoned him with a sharp little trill and disappeared up the stairs. “What?”

He turned the thing over in his hand, half of it thoroughly chewed. Crumpled text on what had once been a business card read  _ Armitage Hux _ .

Ben had googled the number after his mother and Amilyn had proposed a resemblance to someone they’d once known. All he’d gotten from the white pages was that it was a private cellular phone. Searching the name itself didn’t turn up anything useful either.

He smoothed the card out as much as he could, remembering the odd meeting. His cheeks flushed, recalling a slender, shapely ankle just peeking out of the bottom of a pant leg and the bold red sock under what Ben could only assume was a high end suit.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and cleared notifications from the screen. He hesitated, the card in one hand and his thumb hovering over the call icon.

At the very least, the ginger with the red socks would break up the monotony of his day.

He dialed and and held his breath, listening to the phone ring.

“Hux,” came the curt response. No  _ hello _ or  _ who’s calling? _ Direct. To the point.

“Hi, my name is,” his mouth was dry. He swallowed. “My name’s Ben?”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes?”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re sure.”

Ben let out a heavy breath. “We met--you gave me your card.”

“I give a lot of people my card. You’ll have to be more specific, Probably-Ben.”

He cleared his throat, “I’m a detective. Have you committed a crime lately?”

“ _ Oh _ ,” came a breathy response. “Hello there, Detective Ben. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call.”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to.”

“Mm.” Ben could hear the rapid clack of keys, a phone ringing very quietly nearby. “What can I do for you Detective?”

“Are you--I wanted…”

“Yes?”

“Tonight. Are you free?”

“Perhaps.” More clacking. “Excuse me a moment.” The line went silent and Ben was positive he’d been hung up on. “How is seven for you?”

It was such an odd time to meet. It seemed deliberate. “Seven sounds great.”

“Is this a number I can reach you at?”

“Yeah, I’m calling from my cell.”

“Good. Where are you taking me?”

Ben felt hot all over listening to that continuous  _ click-clack _ . He wondered if he was on speaker? It didn’t sound like it. He couldn’t quite imagine the dignified man from the coffee shop with a bluetooth in his ear any more than he could imagine him with the phone clenched between the side of his face and his shoulder. “Garfunkel's. Clinton Street. Drinks.”

“Alright then. Shall I bring some identifying trinket? A rose in my lapel?”

Ben laughed. “No, I think you’re memorable enough.”

“I’ll see you at seven then. Good afternoon, Detective.” The line clicked.

 

***

He had about two hours to play with before he absolutely had to get back in the car to make it to the bar by seven. Ben had the distinct feeling that Hux wouldn’t abide tardiness.

After sitting for a seconds-long eternity staring down at his phone, the  _ Call Ended _ screen lingering, he bolted from the couch and scrambled up the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Solo?” he scolded himself, nearly tripping over the cat on the landing. “You don’t even know him.”

He slowed down, stopped for a shower and took the time to dry his hair before he stood in front of his closet.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ve got a damn closet full of  _ nothing _ .” The cat looked at him from her place on the bed, utterly bored. “Come on, Astra, help me out.” She curled her lips in a silent response and turned her attention to grooming. “I feed you, I keep a roof over your head and a steady supply of catnip coming in--you don’t even pay rent. Least you could do, beast.”

He pulled things out, frustration mounting. A suit was certainly too much for a first date--if this even  _ was _ . Jeans were obviously inappropriate. Ben assumed Hux would be coming from work if he pulled a typical nine-to-five and the bar he’d suggested absolutely wasn’t a  _ jeans and tee _ kind of place and--

And this was much easier when he was a teenager.

It was much easier when the person he was planning to see wasn’t such a damn mystery.

He frowned at the pile of slacks and shirts on the bed like they’d personally offended him and mused at the idea of calling his mother. When he finally settled on something he looked himself over in the mirror, clicking the wristband of his watch in place and rolling his sleeves neatly to the elbow. “Good. Good enough.”

He took a cab to the bar, asked to be let out at the corner. His heart was pounding in his chest, he felt twitchy and tightly wound.

“Relax, Solo.” The brisk wind stung his cheeks and ears. At least he could blame the blush on the weather. Ben took a breath when he arrived at the door, the host looking at him expectantly and holding it open. “Thanks,” he murmured, and slipped inside.

It wasn’t hard to find Hux. He was perched at the counter, his back impossibly straight and and an empty plant in front of him. The planes of his face were harsh with illumination from the phone in his hand in contrast to the warm low light in the room.

“Am I late?” Ben asked, slipping onto the unoccupied stool beside him.

Hux tensed and curled his wrist, blocking direct view of his phone. He turned and looked fully at Ben and relaxed by fractions, his lips curling up at the corners. “Not at all.”

“You should have said you wanted dinner. I would have treated.”

Hux shrugged and pushed his plate away, handed a card over to the bartender that approached. “Not at all necessary. I was early--and they wouldn’t let me upstairs.”

“Oh?”

“Evidently you have to have a password.”

Ben grinned, “Mm. When you make a reservation you get a code to punch in at the bank vault in the corner back there.” He jerked his chin to indicate the shadowy corner at the far end of the space.

Hux rolled his eyes. “How droll.”

Ben grew warm, embarrassed. He thought it was a nice place, the theatrics part of the appeal. It gave him a special sort of amusement that the place had been the location of an actual criminal enterprise way back when--and here he was, a bonafide copper sneaking inside.

“It’s a little silly, yeah.” He bit his lip. “But the drinks are worth it.”

“I’ll have to trust you on that one, won’t I? Shall we?” Hux took his card back and scribbled on the receipt.  _ AH! _

Ben slipped from his stool and walked toward the bank vault. He confirmed he had a reservation with the host lingering in the shadow near the kitchen door and punched the numeric code he’d been given into the keypad on the door. The vault door clunked open to an audible sort of smirk from Hux over his shoulder. “Watch your step, please, gentlemen,” a dapperly dressed waiter waiting inside murmured from his place on the barely-lit stairs. Ben could feel the heat of Hux’s breath on his back as they climbed the narrow, twisting path. 

“Right here, gentlemen.” They were shown to a tiny table flanked by a pair of wingback chairs. The place was  _ loud _ both with music and the chatter of patrons around them, magnified in the small area the whole bar occupied. Hux seemed to be cringing with his entire body as he draped his folded coat over the back of his chair and sat. “I’ll give you a moment to look at the menu--please don’t hesitate to call me over if you have any questions.”

Ben nodded his thanks, slipping out of his own jacket and trying to arrange it as neatly across the back of his chair as Hux had. They both needed to lean into the flickering candlelight to see anything printed in front of them.

“You hate this, don’t you?”

Hux looked up at him over the edge of his menu, brow cocked high and lips pursed. “No.” He looked back down at the menu for a moment. “It’s just a bit difficult to get acclimated to.”

Ben wasn’t sure if it was the drinks--and his lack of having eaten--or the tealights or the soft bulbs at the bar glinting off the table, but Hux looked otherworldly. His mouth moved precisely over every word he said, his eyes sharp. His smart slacks and jacket looked like he’d clothed himself in outer space in the semi-darkness and Ben wanted nothing more than to touch the fabric and see how smooth it was.

“So you know all about good whiskey, but what do you do in your spare time?”

“When I’m not getting blasted? Well, I have a job where I wear a suit and sit in an office that is far too large for one person but just about the right size for my ego.” Hux smirked, lips pursed as he took as sip of his cocktail--whiskey and scotch and citrus, bright and hot when he’d told Ben to take a sip for himself.

“Big office all on your own?” Hux nodded and hummed low in his throat, or at least Ben thought he did, the volume around them too oppressive to hear anything really subtle. “I don’t think I could ever get used to that. I’ve always been in the middle of things.”

“Cubicle farm?”

“No, no. Our office is sort of… one big room? With rows of desks, little groups on one end. I like to be in the middle, literally.” He laughed shortly and took a sip of his own drink--rye and fruit and sharp herbs--and watched Hux watch him.

“Center of attention? I don’t imagine it’s hard for you to wind up there.”

Ben felt himself blush, “I’m not  _ that _ vain. I like to… I like to hear everyone thinking. Talking to themselves, shuffling papers, making calls, reviewing statements. Let my brain run in the background like… like defragging a computer.”

“Detective Ben,” Hux said teasingly. “Did you get that lovely manicure just for me?”

“I--” Ben set his Collins glass down on the table and curled his hands into fists in his lap, hiding. “No.” Hux cocked a brow at him and wondered aloud if painted nails were any more regulation than little braids and long hair. Ben flushed from the tips of his ears down into his collar. “No.”

Hux frowned, “I’ve embarrassed you haven’t I?” Ben cleared his throat, not quite trusting himself to answer. “I apologize. I quite like it. You don’t seem to give much of a fuck what people think. I like  _ that _ .”

Ben swallowed and uncurled his fingers by fractions, gunmetal nails not quite as dug in. He did care. Too much. “So what do you do, really? In that big office.”

“I’m a mechanical engineer, officially. But I have a pretty good handle on chemistry and systems operations.” 

Ben gaped and Hux took a longer sip of his drink. His eyes were hawkish, gauging every microreaction. The rye had definitely gone to Ben’s head. He felt like everything he did was magnified. “Oh. That’s… that’s kind of extraordinary. What do you do with that?”

“I’m not sure that’s  _ first date _ material.”

“This is a date then?”

“I was under the impression it was.”

Ben let himself smile. He picked up his drink again. “Good,” he said and sipped.

They were shown to a back door hidden in the deepest shadow of the room after they settled the check. The yellowy-white fluorescent light in the stairwell was blinding after sitting by scant candlelight for--Ben glanced down at his watch as he followed Hux down--hours. He felt like his shoulders were scraping the walls, that whoever had designed this getaway passage had been in the coffin business.Hux paused at the bottom of the stairs to throw his coat over his shoulders. He stood there for a moment, coat just draped, hands folded neatly behind his back under the great cape of it, looking at Ben while he descended the last few stairs.

“Look at you,” Hux said, reaching forward. “You dressed the part for this silly place and I didn’t even get to enjoy it.” He ran a long white index finger under Ben’s suspender, trailed it along the high waist of his slacks.

Ben’s mouth went dry and the muscles of his stomach clenched involuntarily. “You, um, you look--you--you want to-to--”

“Detective Ben, are you trying to ask me on a second date?” Ben swallowed as discretely as he could manage. He nodded. “I’d like that. Only…”

“Only?”

“I’ll choose the location next time.”

Ben laughed, his whole body tingling with nerves. “Sounds good.” He started to step back in the small space to put his own coat on. Hux’s fingers curled around a suspender, stopping him.

“Ben?” he asked, voice liquid and low. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Hux edged forward, his feet moving imperceptibly. He leaned forward. They were of a height, maybe an inch or two off. Ben hardly had to adjust, watching Hux watching him.

“Yes,” he hissed, soft.

Hux held still, his breath warm against Ben’s face. His eyes flicked down, lashes strangely cornflower and copper in the poor light. Ben closed the distance, just fractions, and pressed his lips to Hux’s.

They were soft,  _ so soft _ . Dry but not unpleasantly, a not-yet-used kind. Hux opened his mouth just barely, let Ben make the kiss just slightly less chaste.

Ben’s stomach was full of butterflies, wings on fire. Hux’s lashes fluttered against Ben’s cheek, the touch so light he wasn’t even sure it was real. His knuckled pressed into Ben’s chest where he still gripped the suspender.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, music and conversation spilling down toward them. Hux pulled away, leaving Ben leaning toward with his heart trying to jackhammer right out of his chest. “Would you prefer a call or a text?”

Ben snapped his mouth shut and turned to look up at the group of girls tromping down the stairs, heels echoing too loud against the walls and ceiling and giggling just a hair on the side of too forcefully. He looked back at Hux, who had extricated his hand and was slipping his coat properly onto his arms. He retrieved a red scarf from the deep pocket and looped it in a knot around his neck, tucking it inside.

“Well?”

“Text. Text me. If I’m working I won’t be able to answer.”

Hux smiled, his eyes lighting up with something bright. “I’ll see you later, then.” He slipped a hand back down into his pocket, glanced at the screen of his phone. “My car is here.” He opened the door and waved over his shoulder, disappearing onto the busy sidewalk.

“Excuse us!” Ben startled, the girls on the stairs eyeing him curiously. He apologized and jammed his arms into his coat, holding the door open while they tripped outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben needs to go home and have a cold shower Y/N?
> 
> **@avaahren on tumblr**


	5. Surveillance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given Rey a last name. It's "Nemo," which if the internet isn't lying is Latin for "no one"/"nobody" and is pronouced "Nay-moh." Phasma gets a last name here as well as in a fit of super creative genius I've used the name of her clan from the novel.
> 
> Go me.
> 
> Spoiler-ish trigger warning in the end notes.

Ben watched a parade of Hux’s co-workers as they came into the precinct for questioning. Many of them were ushered softly into the conference room, made comfortable with coffee or water, spoken to in reassuring tones.

Their employer had been killed.

No, they couldn’t discuss precise details.

Could they offer any insight into the kind of clientele that  _ First Order _ catered to?

Yes, the department understood that many things were classified or sensitive.

Was there anything they could think of that stuck out as odd or significant?

About that day?

Really? Mr. Hux had left the office with a bloodied face, fit to be tied. Could they talk about that? Had they heard anything? Had they seen anything?

Had, perhaps, anyone been recently let go?

Had there, perhaps, if they were able to discuss it,  _ of course _ , been any particularly dissatisfied client?

Did Snoke and anyone who worked for the company have a particularly unique relationship?

Who had been there the longest?

Who stood to gain the most?

Ben seethed, useless at his desk, relegated to reviewing a string of robberies that had occured over the last several months. Some of them involved a death at the scene, the victim in the wrong place at the wrong time. Individually, none of them had any particular pattern or modus operandi in common but they’d fallen into a distinct time frame--the first and third Thursdays of each month. None of the scenes had turned up any valuable forensics, which in itself  _ was  _ valuable forensics, just of the most infuriating variety.

Ben knew why it had been dumped in his lap. Poe wanted to keep him busy, wanted him to keep his nose out of the investigation into Snoke’s death. He didn’t believe Poe thought he’d interfere or that he’d sabotage the work with his personal bias.

He did get the distinct impression that Poe didn’t want information shared with Hux. Of course he’d be wary.

“How’s Mr. Hux doing?” he’d ask off-handedly. Ben wasn’t sure Poe was conscious of the number of times he’d actually inquired into Hux’s well-being since the day the call came in. 

 

***

 

“Let’s talk,” Poe had said that day with a somber expression on his face. He pulled Ben into his office and closed the door, waving Rey away with a hand and a sharp look when she approached with a bundle of paperwork in her arms. “Ben, please sit down.” he sighed and scrubbed his hands through his curly mop. “Ben,  _ please _ .”

Ben sat down but couldn’t relax. He was too keyed up, too aware of the sympathetic slope to Poe’s shoulders. 

The Captain slipped around to his side of the desk and sank heavily into his chair.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, you deserve better than that--you’re not a civilian and you’re my friend above everything else.”

“Dameron, don’t--”

“Ben, just hear me out.” Poe kept his tone low and warm like he was speaking to the family of a victim. It was familiar. It was frightening rather than reassuring. “I know that it’s early. Fuck, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. We’re working on statements. Forensics hasn’t even finished processing the scene--they’re going over everything with a fine-tooth comb and then some.”

“ _ Poe _ .”

“But right now, Mr. Hux is the only suspect that makes any sense.”

“That guy is barely even cold you can’t possibly make any kind of founded conclusion so quickly, much less--”

“Ben,  _ I know _ . I just got off the phone with upstairs, we’re working on a warrant for security footage. I’ve heard Mr. Hux’s statement, I’ve heard some of the preliminary observations from the scene guys. It should all check out fine. But I’ve also heard a lot of chatter from the other employees who came in for work while they were waiting for the rest of the building to be cleared. Last time they saw Snoke or Hux--it wasn’t looking good. He’s the obvious suspect.”

Ben clenched his fingers into fists against his knees. His heart was in his throat and his stomach was on fire. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve to know. It’s going to get awkward around here and I want you to be prepared.”

“Why would it get awkward?”

“Ben, you’re one of the best we’ve got here, if not  _ the _ best. People are going to wonder why you’re not working this case. They’re going to ask questions.  _ You’re  _ going to be questioned, it’s inevitable.” Poe rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted and it was hardly even lunchtime. “I can’t request a new copy machine again.”

Ben’s cheeks glowed with embarrassment. “That was  _ one _ time and you know why I--”

“I’m going to get Mr. Hux cleared as quickly as I can, but I can’t let the investigation be compromised.  _ First Order _ … it’s a big deal. Shit, the feds might even take this away from us.” He let out a manic little laugh and slapped his palms against his thighs. “Ben I have to ask, is there anything you can tell me? Anything at all? Like--what was with, you know?” He gestured to his face, frowning.

Ben shook his head. “I have no idea, Poe. I hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday morning. I know as much as you do.”

Poe worried at his bottom lip and nodded. “Alright.” He leaned back in the chair, seemingly ignorant of Ben’s mounting agitation. “How is he, by the way? Pava said he left right after they spoke. Nemo said he seemed upset, wouldn’t let you take him home.”

“The intern should mind her own  _ fucking _ business. Of course he was upset. Wouldn’t  _ you _ be upset?”

“Ben.” Poe blushed hard when Ben stood up, frustrated in unfamiliar territory. “I’m not trying to make you mad, will you take a damn breath?”

“I’m going to lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.”

***

Now, Poe was at him again, asking how Hux was doing in his completely unsubtle manner.

“He’s fine. Overwhelmed, maybe. He’s trying to clean up a lot of messes.”

“He’s pretty much running the company now, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Ben grunted and buried his nose pointedly in the file he was perusing. If Poe wanted to question him he could do it in a room with a camera.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I’m trying to figure out this  _ Bingo Night Bandit _ bullshit.”

“What?”

“First and third Thursdays. That’s bingo night at the Y.”

“Why is that relevant?”

Ben shrugged and turned a page. “Don’t know yet.”

Poe flipped open Ben’s notebook, glanced over his scribbled shorthand. “You know, you could ask Finn for an assist.”

“These aren’t cold cases, they’re active.”

“Yeah, but he’s good at patterns, catching the small stuff. Like bingo night.”

“Is that an order?”

“Of course not.” Poe frowned and stopped leaning casually against the edge of Ben’s desk. “Keep me updated.” Ben huffed in agreement and zeroed in on the scene report under his nose again.

In truth, Ben didn’t know how Hux was doing. He couldn’t know. He was doing his best to give non-answers without sounding evasive because that was exactly what Hux was being. Evasive, obstinate, distant. Ben had called him that day, when he’d left the building and made his way down toward the delicatessen on the corner. Hux had sounded reedy and rough like he’d been shouting or chain smoking or both at once. He’d brushed off Ben’s offers of dinner, of company. He was fine, he insisted, he didn’t need mothering. He needed some space. He needed some time. He needed to process what had happened.

It had been nearly a week.

He understood, he really did. Honestly, truly.

Everyone processed trauma and grief differently and on top of it all Hux was dealing with having to wade through the mess that Snoke had apparently left behind.

_ It had been nearly a week _ .

Ben had texted, had called. Hux had responded, yes. But only the bare minimum. One word answers, short phrases, terse tones.

Ben could handle the bullshit at work, he  _ could _ .

He just missed Hux. Terribly. It had become a bone-deep ache that was eating at his ribs and his joints and he felt helpless. He couldn’t move the case along, Hux was pushing him away.

Ben felt like he was swimming up through a pool of muddy water, vaguely aware that someone was trying to get his attention.

“Solo!” Pava was grinning, bent over in half to meet him at eye level and waving a hand in front of him. “Hey, we’re all going to go grab dinner. Do you want to join?”

Ben rubbed his eyes, the words on the page in front of him swimming. He put the folder down and stretched, searching the room briefly for who exactly  _ we’re all _ included.

Rey--Finn--Ka re--Snap--they were all congregating in the hall near the elevator, shouldering into coats and hats and gloves and smiling and speaking in soft, friendly tones.

Ben sighed and shook his head. “You guys go. I wanna get through the rest of this and then I think I’m gonna go home, hit the hay early for once.”

“You sure?” He nodded. “Alright. If you change your mind, we’re at the regular spot.”

He watched them go, piling into the elevator. Rey smooshed herself to Finn’s side, grinning. Ben’s stomach twisted, his chest heavy.

He plowed through the rest of the file, jotting down a few last notes before he locked up his desk for the evening. He slipped past Poe’s office, waving as he went, and retreated to the elevators. In the bright, bare privacy of the elevator car he took his phone out and stared at the blank screen. No missed calls or messages or emails. The time display ticked from four to four-oh-one.

He dialed.

“Ben,” came the soft answer. It had hardly rung once. He imagined Hux sitting, watching his phone, waiting. It was unrealistic, he knew. Hux wasn’t that kind of person. He had too many demands on his time, too much self-importance, to ever hang by and wait for a call. It wasn’t a bad thing, Ben thought. It was interesting, made him seem fearless and bold.

He knew how all of that was racking up points against Hux.

“Are you at work?”

“I’m just leaving,” Ben said, voice snagging in his chest like a silly teenager. “I was wondering how you were.”

“Come over.”

“Now?”

“Yes, please. Ben, I need to see you.”

Ben’s heart threatened to bust up though his throat. “Yeah, of course. Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

Ben drove like it mattered. He swerved through traffic--uptown and over--riding on the edge of speed and signal laws. When he reached Hux’s building he circled the block, looking for a space then sat for several long moments with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Anger welled in his belly and burned up into his chest.

Why now? What had changed? What made Hux think that he could turn on a dime without any kind of explanation or apology? Why was Ben just hopping to it? Not questioning any of it?

He clenched his teeth and breathed his way through it, blinking back tears of frustration. Getting a hold of himself, he ventured up to Hux’s apartment.

It never stopped amazing him, how perfectly quiet and private Hux’s building was. The doorman remained inside even on warm days to ward against anyone wandering too near, looking for directions or otherwise. Not a sound broke the soft whiteness of the lobby, as if stepping inside rendered your ears unusable. Even the elevator didn’t ding in an obtrusive way.

Ben made his way to a middling floor. The place was too large for one person but Hux seemed to fill the space, every inch of it busting at the seams with his presence and personality--which in itself was odd as it wasn’t physically full of things by any stretch of the imagination.

Ben stood in front of the door, hesitating. He sniffed and scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair and punched the doorbell once.

Hux was there in the space of a heartbeat. The door swung open on silent hinges and he was there and Ben’s heart was clenching in his chest and he  _ just _ \--

He gripped the front of Hux’s sweater with both hands and pulled him in, Hux’s eyes wide with  bewilderment. Ben kissed him, desperate, breathing Hux’s breath and moving his hands to Hux’s shoulders, his neck, fisting them in his hair-- _ soft _ , so soft, no product holding it  _ just so _ \--and Ben--

Hux hissed, kissing back for brief seconds and gulping in discomfort. “Ben, my lip--you--” he gasped and pulled away. He was flushed and rumpled and Ben had done it.

He hadn’t given him a chance to send a terse, efficient little text or ignore a call.

Hux grimaced and gingerly touched the neat little stitches on his lip. Ben wondered briefly if he realized it would be uneven when it healed, the vermillion border buckled into a sharp little anomaly on the topography of his face. Hux laughed, the rough sound stuck in his chest. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Ben moved his hands to cup Hux’s face delicately, thumbs bushing against the apples of his cheeks. “Hux, what is going  _ on _ with you?”

“Come inside.”

Ben followed him like a dog on a leash through the door and into the apartment. “Hux,” he whispered, his voice quivering over the vowel, “we need to--”

“You ginger menace, I know exactly what you want and you cannot have it,” an unfamiliar voice swam from the kitchen where Hux was leading him. “ _ No _ , I said no.”

They rounded the corner to find a monolith of a woman perched on one of the stools around the center island, Millicent balanced on her shoulder and stretching down toward the plate of food in front of her.

“Millie,” Hux admonished. “You know better than that.” The cat froze, caught in the act, and leapt down with a delicate little  _ mew _ as if entirely innocent. She turned her nose up disdainfully at Ben and slinked away to some other corner of the apartment.

Ben swallowed hard and backed away from Hux as the woman turned and cast a brilliant smile on him. “You didn’t say you had company.”

“Phasma is hardly company.”

“I am excellent company. Who else has put up with your bullshit all these years?”

“Hux, I’ll… I’ll go.”

“Nonsense, I want you here. You’ll stay.”

Phasma’s smile turned just on the side of predatory. “You must be Ben.” He nodded and took the hand she offered to shake. “I’ve heard all about you.”

“I’ve heard…” he looked at Hux, something in his stomach tightening with distrust. He dismissed it. “Not really that much about you, I’ll be entirely honest.”

Phasma smirked and Hux bumped her with his hip as he moved around the island, snatching up the open bottle of wine and retrieving a fresh glass. Ben sat down, straightening his spine as much as he could and planting his feet in a way that felt authoritative.

“Phasma’s been out of the country mostly. Since…”

“Nearly a year.” She turned to Ben, “Back and forth, you know. Visiting clients.”

“Of course.” Ben accepted the glass from Hux and took a sip. It was warm. Hux knew he hated that but insisted it was the proper way to drink a red. “Did you just get back from… a visit?” He knew what she did for  _ First Order _ , knew her skillset. It made him nervous, like being around a dog at the shelter who had been through too much and waiting for it to snap at you.

“Yes, I arrived this morning. I cut my business short when Hux told me about Snoke but I couldn’t get a damn flight any sooner.”

Hux moved around the island with his own glass in his hand. He came up behind Ben and rested his cheek against Ben’s head. He sighed softly and Ben felt him practically melt across his shoulders. It was too much, too intimate. It didn’t feel right. It felt like a performance. “Let’s order something for dinner, hmm? I’m famished. I’m sure you are too, Ben. I don’t quite think grapes and cheese will do it.” He gestured to the plate Millicent had been trying to plunder. Phasma put a grape between her teeth and bit down, the skin audibly snapping. She grinned and chewed and sipped from her glass. “You remember, dearest Armitage, that it is  _ my _ turn to choose.”

Ben felt uneasy.

Hux was always sharp and challenging and unfiltered, but now, with Phasma, it was as if he’d shed some kind of veil and everything was so much more. Ben quashed the feeling. He was with people he trusted, he’d just experienced a trauma. Of course he was going to be different.

In the living room after dinner Hux settled into the chair and Millicent jumped easily into his lap, turning herself around in a circle and dropping down into a seamless ginger  _ floof _ that Hux ran his fingers over with an absent look on his face.

Phasma sprawled on the couch, full and satisfied. “I haven’t eaten like that since the last time I was home.” She sighed and moved over to allow Ben to sit. “Hux, I have to ask, what did they do with him?”

Ben jerked back in surprise. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “Snoke. Far as anyone at  _ First Order _ knew he didn’t have any family to speak of.”

Hux frowned and focused his attention on gently undoing a knot in Millicent’s thick fur. “The company is essentially the executor of his will. There were provisions made. As soon at the medical examiner releases the body it’s being shipped back to his estate for burial.”

“Certainly different than Brendol.”

Hux nodded and clicked his tongue at the cat in response to a lazy sound she made. “Somehow the Commandant’s was less stressful. Putting him in the ground was a relief.” The turn of phrase made Ben’s skin crawl. “Though I suppose anyone who’d lived under a parent like him would feel the same.” Phasma made a distant, thoughtful sound. “Snoke just… I never realized how many cookie jars his hands were in. I can barely keep up.” He huffed out a short laugh. “I’m glad your back, Phasma.”

“At least you haven’t got another Cardinal on your hands.”

Hux’s lip turned up in disgust. He winced and did his best to smooth his features.

“What’s Cardinal?” Ben asked.   
“Cardinal is a  _ who _ .” Hux waved a hand dismissively. “A fucking sycophant. He was a scholarship student at Arkanis. We practically grew up alongside each other. He was the Commandant’s pet project, hand picked. When we were small his name was Archex.”

“You  _ hated _ each other.”

“After we’d graduated, I went to university and the Commandant gave Archex a job working with the cadets--created some kind of special position for him, gave him a nice red uniform jacket to go with it. Hence, the name change. Truly ridiculous.”

“What did he do?” Ben was confused.

“When Brendol got sick Cardinal was beside himself. Father-figure nonsense. Never saw through Brendol’s bullshit.” Hux snorted. Phasma continued, “After Hux pulled the family trust from Arkanis he started making some wild accusations. No one believed them of course. Cardinal couldn’t hack it so he packed it in.”

Ben’s brow shot up. “You mean he…”

“Yes, he killed himself rather than be faced with his own insignificance and the Commandant’s true nature.”

“Surprised exactly no one.”

Ben felt cold. He understood Hux's issues with his father but it didn't excuse the callous way they were talking.

“I was already with  _ First Order _ by then. The company moved here not too long after that.” Millicent, apparently having had enough of Hux’s attentions, abandoned his lap to disappear. Hux shifted his legs and yawned. “I’m exhausted.”

Phasma stood and cracked her back. “I’ll second that. I’m going to have a shower. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ben waited for her to leave before turning a concerned look on Hux. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged and raked his fingers through his hair. “Will you stay?”

“You have company.”

“Phasma won’t care. She probably expects you to.”

Ben hesitated. He briefly considered making some excuse--he had to go home a feed Astra. “Alright.”

Hux’s jaw worked over something he left unsaid. He blinked rapidly and looked into the empty fireplace at his side. “I need you.”

Something in Ben shattered. “I’m here,” he said, hardly finding the strength for anything more than a whisper. “Let’s go to bed.”

Hux led Ben by the hand, his pinky curled around Ben’s index and tugging him along. In the master bedroom, he let Ben hold him, leaning back into the embrace and rubbing himself cat-like into the warmth of Ben’s chest. “Hux,” he whispered into the darkness, lips against Hux’s throat. “I’m worried about you.” Hux scoffed and turned his chin, moving gently against Ben’s forehead. “I’m serious. You’re not… you’re not yourself. Not the you that I know.”

Hux gripped Ben’s arm with one hand, his hair with the other. He turned his face down, trying to catch the corner of Ben’s mouth with his own. “I’ve got a lot on my plate. I haven’t slept in days.” Ben tipped his chin up away from Hux’s throat, lips catching against scratchy stitches briefly. “I’m sorry. I just want to help. Let me be here for you, Hux.”

Phasma rapped her knuckles hard against the door. “Do either of you need to get into the bathroom? I’m getting in the shower.”

“We’re fine, Phas,” Hux called out. They listened to her footfalls recede back down the hall.

“You’re different around her.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know if I like it.” Hux’s throat bobbed against Ben’s cheek.

“We’re all different around our friends, Ben.”

“I’m not.”

“You think you aren’t.” Ben frowned and Hux pulled away. “I just want to sleep. I want you in that bed and I want us to sleep.”

“Alright,” Ben sighed. He edged toward Hux again, smacking his knee against the hard wood of the bedpost as he went. Hux crossed his arms, hugging himself, and turned his face away. Ben raised a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over Hux’s cheek. His skin was silver and cold in the bright moonlight through the open curtains. Hux relaxed by fractions. Ben fingered the hem of his sweater, “Can I?”

Hux closed his eyes, nodded, relaxing.

Ben lifted the sweater.

***

Ben stretched and groaned, the alarm on his phone plinking out the most annoying tune on offer. He fumbled with the thing on the nightstand, slapping at the screen until the sound stopped. 

Behind him, Hux let out an annoyed little huff. “It’s Saturday.”

“It’s my weekend.”

“Can’t you call out?”

“No.” Hux drew him in close, pressing his hips into Ben and plastering his chest to Ben’s back. “Don’t you have a company to run? You’ll be late.”

“I’m the boss now. Everyone else is just early.”

Ben snorted, shivering at the sensation of wet lips against his shoulder. “You’re going to make  _ me _ late.”

“Then we’ll be quick.”

Ben’s heart battered itself violently against his sternum, Hux straddling him him and shivering in the afterglow. Ben was glad to be on his back, not sure his body wouldn’t betray him. He squeezed Hux’s thighs, watching the skin go red and white and red again under his fingers, and earned an exhausted but happy kind of sigh in return.With his hair tousled and his mouth slack and his shoulders lazy, there was something of the Hux that Ben had been missing.

Ben dragged his fingers though the puddle of cum on his chest and tucked them into his mouth, tonguing them clean. Hux looked down at him with rapt attention; his cheeks flushed and his hips stuttered forward, pushing his cock through the cooling spend. Ben put a hand over it, soft and pink and velvet, bracketing him in again between Ben’s pectorals. Hux rolled his hips in absent-minded jerks, his breath making Ben’s hair move and tickle at his chin and cheeks. He shuddered through a second release, a low crescendo with nothing to show for it but the red splotches across his chest and the clench of his belly.

Ben’s phone chirped with a text message and he grinned up at Hux, “You’ve definitely made me late.”

“Shall I write you a note? Dear Captain Dameron, Detective Solo is late to work today because I’ve held him captive in bed. You see, he knows just what I need and I can’t let him leave until he’s given it to me. Please don’t penalize him for my actions, especially since I mean to repeat them. Sincerely, Armitage Hux. Post-script; it really is rather awful that you’ve made him work on a Saturday. What kind of monster are you?”

Ben snorted out a laugh and Hux heaved a leg over him, falling heavily onto the mattress. “I’m not sure whether Poe would find that funny or he’d fire my ass on the spot.”

“He can’t fire your ass. It belongs to me.” Hux kissed him, missing his mouth completely several times before claiming Ben’s lips for his own. “Take a personal day. I want you in my mouth again.”

“No, Hux, I gotta go. I’m really pushing it. I have actual work to do. And you're gonna pop your damn stitches--I won't be held responsible.”

Hux snorted, "Think you're that impressive? Come back later then. Or I’ll come to you.”

Ben smiled and carded his fingers though Hux’s hair. “I’d like that.”

***

Ben leaned back in his chair, staring hard at the scene reports spread out in front of him. He was getting nothing and nowhere fast. He let himself fall forward and grimaced at the clatter of his chair against the floor and the annoyed looks from the people at the surrounding desks. He stood and gathered the materials off of his desk, thinking a change of scenery might help. No one appeared to be in the conference room. He could spread everything out, maybe use the whiteboard. Poe had given him this ridiculous string of cases for a reason, there had to be  _ something _ worth finding.

He waved his hand at the motion sensor and the lights flickered on. He closed the door behind himself and sighed. Someone else’s things were sitting at the far end of the table--a tablet, a stack of files, a notebook. He hoped they wouldn’t mind sharing the space. He settled in, arranging his folders across the table and organizing them in the only way that made sense so far, chronologically, which was useless in itself.

Ben tossed a file folder carelessly down toward the end of the table with the most recent events and swore under his breath when it slid across the glossy surface and the papers inside poured onto the floor. He gathered them up and tucked them back in, glancing over the materials that had already been there when he arrived curiously.

It was obvious enough that they belonged to Pava when he saw the neat shorthand scribbled across the notebook. Ben glanced over his shoulder, picking up the tablet. No one in the bullpen was paying him any mind, probably relieved to be free of his shuffling and sighing. He swiped his fingers across the screen and it winked to life, the video player open. He tapped the play button.

“Sir,” Hux said on the screen. His voice was clear as day and the picture hadn’t a stray pixel in sight. It was a bird’s-eye view of what Ben assumed was Snoke’s office judging by who was sitting in the elegant wingback chair. “I believe we should stay our current course.”

“And why is that, Armitage? Why should I allow that when you have already shown how adept you are at failing?”

Hux bristled, his shoulders hitching up under his perfectly tailored jacket. “Sir, the resistance is weak at best. We have half of the votes we need already paid for. It’s simply Organa who--”

“I don’t want to hear about Organa. She is not the only problem.” Snoke looked up at Hux with a severe expression. “Evaan Verlaine has been sniffing around again. It is only a matter of time before we lose our contract.”

“Sir, I  _ must _ disagree.” Hux slapped the papers he was holding down on the desk in front of Snoke and poked at them enthusiastically. “Pushing the timetable forward will put funds  _ and _ personnel at risk. The new models haven’t been through the complete testing protocol. Ask Phasma yourself, she won’t even use them in demos. It is unsafe.”

“Ms. Scyre has reported to me just this morning that there is more than a little interest among our clients to have more than a passing glance at our new…  _ toys _ . If anything negative happens, then it is at the client’s own risk.”

“We have them all tied on the end of a string! They won’t go anywhere else. They  _ know _ that I’m--that  _ First Order _ is the  _ best _ . They know that we’re superior in production and in the field.” Snoke shifted in his seat. Hux’s face grew red, spittle glinted in the light as it flew off of his lip. “Were  _ I _ in your position, I would--”

Snoke moved to his feet with unnatural speed, belied by his physical appearance. His arm shot out and gripped Hux by the hair. He shoved downward, slamming Hux’s face into the front edge of the solid desk. Hux shrieked in agony, his hair yanked again while Snoke leaned in low.

“You are  _ not _ in my position.” Hux’s mouth and nose were covered in bright blood. It dripped into the desk, hanging in a fat drop off the tip of his chin for just a second before it fell. “That is something you will do well to remember. You’re nothing but a  _ rabid cur _ . That is all you have been since the day I found you. You are disposable, utterly replaceable. If you will not do what I ask then I will find someone to take up your position who  _ will _ . You are not the only one with any kind of skill in your field. There are a dozen people in this building alone who would jump at the chance.”

Snoke let go and Hux thrust himself upright, blinking in surprise and pain. Snoke pushed his chair back out of the way and moved past Hux, leaving the room entirely.

When the door closed Hux doubled over, gripping the edge of the desk and pressing his other hand to his face, using the beautiful fabric of his suit sleeve to mop gingerly at the mess and making a sound of twisted rage when he touched it. He took several heaving breaths and staggered to the window on the far side of the room, dripping as he went. He threw the window open and sucked in air like he’d been drowning. Slumped against the sil, he pressed the cuff of his shirt to his face, trying to stop the bleeding. He purpled with the effort of not making a sound.

A long moment later he straightened and walked back over to the desk. He punched a button on the phone and it beeped in connection.

“Yes, sir?” came a crisp voice from the other end, just slightly muffled over the recording.

“Ms. Unamo, I know that it is not your job, but I’d like you to call me a car.”

“Mister Hux? Is something wrong?”

“Tell them the destination is Coronet Hospital, the emergency entrance, please.”

“Mister Hux, is everything--”

“Please, Ms. Unamo. I seem to have slipped and injured myself.”

Unamo stuttered. “I--alright. Shall I call you when the car’s arrived?”

“Please. I’ll be in my office. Do tell them to make haste.”

“Of course, sir.”

The phone beeped again and Hux gathered the papers he’d put down, wet hands making a mess of them. With the papers in one arm and the other cuff pressed again to his mouth, Hux turned toward the door and--

“Fuck, Solo-- _ dammit _ .” Pava snatched the tablet from his hands and killed the screen. “You can’t  _ do _ that.”

“Jess, give it back.”

“No, Ben.”

“ _ Jess _ , I just want to--”

“No,” she said, her tone washed with finality. “Why are you looking at this stuff? This isn’t your case.”

“I just… I needed the table. I needed space. And it was sitting out. I was curious,” she glared at him, “I’m sorry! Just… just let me see it again.”

“Why?” Pava looked bewildered and concerned. “Why would you want to watch that?”

Ben pushed his hair back with both hands and let it fall again. “I don’t  _ want  _ to. I need to. I need to understand why he’s--”

“Why he’s what?” Ben pressed his lips shut, knowing he’d said too much. “Why he’s  _ what _ , Solo? Is there something we should know?”

He drew himself up as tall as he could and stuck his chin forward. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”   
“What am I implying?”

“That I’m withholding information. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then tell me what you were going to say, Ben.”

He sat down hard, seat rolling just a bit on its wheels. “That he’s not himself. He’s… shaken up.” Ben gestured in futility at the tablet Pava was holding. “That explains a lot. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Poe turned around and did that.”

“Your relationship with Dameron is nothing like Hux and Snoke.”

Ben sighed and turned back to the files he’d spread out on the table. “Did the whole thing get recorded?” He feigned nonchalance, flipping through photos and not really looking at them.

“Yes.”

“And did he do it?”

“He’s not in the recording, if that’s what your asking.”

Something in Ben’s chest released and his head swam. “Good.”

“You thought he would be.” It wasn’t a question.

“After seeing  _ that _ ? I’m honestly not sure. I would have had a hard time not hitting back.”

“He was shot.”

“What?”

“Snoke, gunshot wound to the head.”

“Then why haven’t I heard anyone talk ballistics?” Jessika made a face. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re all in one big room. I’m not actively trying to eavesdrop. You’re two desks away from me. I hear all of your calls whether I want to or not.”

She pursed her lips and glared. “Because there are no ballistics to talk about. Nothing usable, at least.”

“But how--”

“No.  _ No _ . I’ve already said more than I should.” She gathered her things, hugging the stack to her chest. “You run down to the roach coach for a bacon-egg-and-cheese for fifteen minutes and people just stick their noses where they don’t belong.”

Ben slouched in his seat, ears burning with embarrassment. Pava stopped for a moment, looking at the things Ben had spread across the table and hummed thoughtfully.

“You should ask Finn to have a look at this. He’s good at reading between the lines.”

Ben waited until she was out the door to smack a tight fist against the tabletop, thankful the thing was far too heavy to do more than  _ clunk _ on impact. It was his case. It wasn’t a case that he’d ever have asked to be assigned to but it was his and he would figure it out on his own.

If Leia were there she would call him stubborn and tell him to cool his jets.

Ben fished his phone from his pocket, thumbs flying across the screen.

_ We need to talk. _

He tapped send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hux and Phasma talk very casually and frankly kind of cruelly about another character having committed suicide previous to the events of this story. They describe Cardinal's reaction to Brendol's death but do not describe the way he died beyond having killed himself.
> 
>  
> 
> You thought you were getting a sex scene, didn't you? A taste of one, at least. I promise I'm building up to something good. Or at least I hope I am.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> **[@ avaahren on tumblr ](http://avaahren.tumblr.com/tagged/murder-mystery) **


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